Convicted
by Lenora Mistblade
Summary: When Watson is arrested, he is sure Holmes will get him out of it.  There's only one little problem.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is my first fanfic EVER! I think a few things with beginnings similar to this have been written, but I'm taking it in an entirely different direction. Just the prologue, the next chapter will be much longer. Feel free to rate, review, criticize, or (if you must) flame.**

Convicted: Prologue

I returned home from my holiday refreshed and rejuvenated. And for once I was positive that I was prepared for any trouble Holmes could have caused while I was gone. With his habit of indulging in that horrid cocaine, his lack of sleep, and refusal to eat, I soon realized that without Mrs. Hudson I would never be able to leave a day, let alone a month.

Speaking of my trip, I had gone to visit my cousin Genevieve in the country. She was close friends with Mr. and Mrs. Harvey, who lived close by. The couple came over to her house so often, they practically lived there. It had been a rather peculiar month I had spent there, and I desperately wanted to speak to Holmes on the matter. It would be a long time before I would ever be able to do so.

Hastily paying the cabbie, and lugging my suitcase along, I entered. The only thing to greet me was silence however.

"Mrs. Hudson! Holmes!" I called hopefully.

I was slightly worried. I could understand Holmes not welcoming me home, but for Mrs. Hudson this was completely out of character. I hiked up the seventeen steps with an increasing pace.

When I entered our sitting room, I was rather surprised at what I found. It appeared that half of the Scotland Yard was there, with a distraught Mrs. Hudson hopping around in the background. Inspector Lestrade stood with a smirk on his face, while the rest of the small crowd sported various expressions: confusion, anger, sympathy.

"What is this?" I asked, some asperity in my voice.

Mrs. Hudson tottered up to me, breathing quickly. "Sir, these men-"

"Are here to have you arrested," finished Lestrade. "We have proof that you murdered Mr. Andrew Harvey."

"What? This is atrocious, I just met the man a…" My voice trailed off as I realized my mistake.

"Uh huh. I thought so." Said Lestrade, sneering.

"Where is Holmes? I'm sure that he can clear up this mess."

"Oh, I did forget to tell you? You see doctor, Holmes was the one who had you convicted."

**A/N: For the first chapter, I'm thinking about a huge flashback showing Watson's trip to his cousin's country home. I don't want to bring Holmes in until chapter 2. **


	2. Mr and Mrs Harvey

**A/N: I wrote this at midnight. Surprisingly, I get some of my better ideas at night. I hope these characters I made up are interesting and realistic enough. We don't focus on Holmes until the next chapter. **

Mr. and Mrs. Harvey

I later realized that it was perfectly logical that Inspector Lestrade would assume I murdered Mr. Harvey. I had the motivation, the opportunity, everything. But how could Holmes possibly believe I was guilty? The events of my excursion repeated in my head.

I told Holmes that he was always welcome to come with me, but of course he refused. "Watson, I'll just make it a less enjoyable holiday for you. You know perfectly well we'll be back in a days time with me along." So, I decided to leave him, but not without some worry. He appeared to be in one of those moods of his.

When I arrived at my cousin's house, she immediately introduced me to the Harvey's. Now, first about Genevieve. Her most significant physical characteristic is her bright blonde hair. It's almost yellow. Like her neighbors and friends, she is very well-to-do, and can be a bit conceited. I believe Genevieve received an enormous inheritance from her relatives. At least that's what she tells me.

The Harvey's seemed normal at first. Mrs. Harvey (or as Genevieve called her, Stella) had a pallid appearance, brown hair, muggy green eyes. And although she was around the same age as my cousin, in her early twenties, she was slightly over weight. She had a very sharp tongue, but Genevieve informed me it was only her timid and defenseless nature that caused her verbal assaults.

Mr. Harvey was a rambunctious and suspicious man. Stocky, and red haired, he acted cautious and warily around me, and even Genevieve. I wondered what he could be hiding. Shortly after my arrival I discovered Genevieve was also a gossip. She chattered to me about Mr. Harvey night and day.

"I've never understood why poor Stella even married Andrew. Always getting drunk and staying out all night. It's a disgrace! And such a fine lady like Stella, well I never!" Once she began a rant like this, she would continue for hours. Although I didn't have trouble getting her to talk about her neighbors, it was hard to get some real information about them.

One thing that puzzled me was how much the Harvey's came over to my cousin's house. Genevieve officially only lived with the servants and the groom, but the couple seemed to habitat her mansion so often, it was as if they were related to her.

A few weeks after I arrived, Mrs. Harvey came downstairs in the morning looking very tired. But you would only notice that after seeing the large scratches down her face and neck. She was wearing a high collared dress to try and hide the wounds in addition to dabbing white powder over them. When I asked her about it, she muttered something about running into a tree. Then about four nights later, I was woken up by a faint, muffled, crying. After a few minutes the sound faded away, and I brushed it off, deciding to ask Genevieve about the matter in the morning. This is how our conversation preceded:

"Excuse me, but last night I heard someone crying. Was that Mrs. Harvey?" I asked this with a slight trepidation.

"Oh, what? Are you sure you heard something, maybe it was just your stomach. Was that meat cooked enough yesterday when-"

"Genevieve dear, I am certain that I heard someone weeping." I interrupted her swiftly, by now I was used to her deliberate avoidance of the subject at hand.

"Um, well," she appeared to be getting desperate. "Yes that was Stella. Poor girl, with that husband of hers you know." She mumbled the last part before laughing nervously, then resumed staring at her crystal plate.

I decided not to push it and ask exactly what her husband did that led to her sobbing in the dead of night. That very evening something happened that nearly caused me to flee the building completely.

I was simply walking up the corridor to my room, when I heard a scratching noise. It was rather unnerving in the complete silence. I followed the continuous sound to it's source: a plain oak door.

I swung the door open very slowly. It made a small creaking sound, which seemed to have replaced the no longer present scratching. The room before me was pitch black. My heart was beating faster, and blood roared in my ears. I took a lantern from my room and carried it back through the hallway. I reached the dark room and stepped inside, the soft light filling part of the room.

It appeared like every other room in the house. A desk was illuminated on the right, a canopy bed sat in the middle. When the light was cast on the far left I stared in shock.

A gigantic cougar stood there, paralyzing me with its gaze. It scratched the ground with one paw, and let loose a massive roar. I was still frozen with fear. It wasn't until the oversized cat ran straight at me that I was snapped out of my daze.

I tore out the door and slammed it behind me, hearing a loud thud as the cougar hit the wood. Luckily nobody had seen me. Or so I thought. Moments later, Mrs. Harvey ran up to me, her hair tattered and frizzy.

"Doctor did you…" she said this fearfully, then seemed to change course. "What on earth do you think you were doing? You have no right to just barge into a room you have no authorization in!"

"I'm very sorry, but the room was so dark I couldn't see a thing."

She seemed to sense I was lying. She nodded quickly, with wide eyes. "Well, I apoligize. I suppose I'll retire now." With one last glance at the door, she skittered off down the passage.

In the morning I was about to tell my cousin of my decision I had made to return home. But before I could Mr. Harvey approached me. I toke this to be a bad sign. He rarely talked to me, unless Mrs. Harvey was with him.

"Doctor. How good to see you!" Yes, this was very strange indeed.

"I was wondering if you would be so kind as to join some friends of mine in a game of poker this afternoon, at the club. That is unless you would rather say here." he said, curling up one eyebrow. Mrs. Harvey almost certainly told him her suspicions.

I couldn't resist one of my weaknesses sometimes, and that was gambling. Usually Holmes had my checkbook safely locked away, but I had to take it with me on the trip. Unfortunately, I lost, as did everyone else aside from Mr. Harvey. I was so sure I was going to win, but I ended up losing more money than I could pay. Only after promising that I would pay him back as soon as I had the money was I able to leave. I suspected that if Genevieve wasn't present, he would have attacked me. And so it was with a muddled mind and a threat from Mr. Harvey that I departed from my cousin's mansion.

**A/N: R&R. **


	3. Holmes

**A/N: Back to the present. I'm still trying to get used to the way this system works. What annoys me the most is that I can never indent my paragraphs!**

Chapter 3: Holmes

I did not think it possible, but I was bored. Bored and angry. I had been sitting in this stuffy jail cell for hours. Every time I looked through the little opening on the door and yelled down the hallway, trying to get someone to talk to me, I would receive no response. There was no one else confined to these cells, or so I thought.

After shouting at through door for the tenth time, my voice became hoarse from lack of water and overuse. I sighed and flopped down on the tiny, metal cot. It made an awful grinding sound, before it cracked down the middle and left me on the filthy floor. I growled in frustration. Then I heard a shuffling sound nearby. I stood up and walked to the door looking out into the corridor hopefully. There were no guards in sight or, as I had hoped, Holmes.

"Hey, you." Whoever said this almost hissed it.

"What? Who said that?" I tried to locate it, but was surprised when my question was answered.

"Name's Uriah Smith. I'm in the cell to your left. Mind tellin me your name?" Smith had a wry, cunning note constantly present in his voice.

"Dr. John Watson," I answered, reluctantly.

"Right, doctor. I assume you wanna get outta here?"

"Yes, and I can assure you that I intend to," I snapped.

"Well, then you need to before your trial. If you wait until after it, then it will twice as hard to escape."

"You misunderstand me. I'm am not guilty. There's just been a mistake." I was becoming extremely exasperated with this fellow. He was obviously a criminal, so why was I even speaking to him? I believe he would have retorted, had someone not walked in that very moment. I grinned at the sound of those familar footsteps.

"Holmes," I cried "What is the meaning of this? They told me you thought I had murdered someone. I knew it couldn't be true of course, but I've been stuck in here for hours! It's a relief to see you."

"Hello, Watson."

My smile faded. His voice was tense and constricted. He kept glancing at the floor, and his expression looked like he was in pain. "Holmes. What is it? Yo- you don't honestly think I killed that man do you?"

Holmes sighed and blinked slowly, before looking straight at me. I was astonished at what I saw. More anguish and grief than I had ever seen before contained in his usually cold grey eyes. It was like I was dead, instead of convicted for a crime. "I am very sorry for this, Watson. But there is proof of your crime. As much as I would like to deny it, that is the truth."

"Holmes," I croaked "How can you think this? Trust me, I can explain everything-"

"Watson, please," he murmured "Just stop. I want to believe that, but I can't. My task is to serve justice to anyone who violates the law, and that includes people I'm close to." And who would that be? Only me and Holmes' brother Mycroft.

"But I didn't violate the law!" At this point all I felt was fury towards Holmes. Even though there was some evidence that I had supposedly committed this crime, his faith in me as a friend should overcome that evidence. Holmes simply gave me one last forlorn look then turned and walked away. "Holmes, wait. But I- HOLMES!" I pounded against the door as he disappeared from view, then slumped against it, sliding to the ground.

"Well, well, I see your friend has betrayed you." This was Smith speaking again, in a mocking voice. "So how about it? I'm planning to escape in about three minutes. I'll help you escape too."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because we're part of the same team. Both outcasts, deserted. Both seen as shameless criminals." Of course I was quite offended by that. But coming from a convict, I suppose it was a good thing. I thought about defying his marking me as a criminal, but decided against it. It was hopeless to try and convince him of my innocence. I contemplated trying to escape. Before talking to Holmes, I would never have even thought of it as a possibility. Now though, seeing as Holmes was certain I was guilty, it might actually be a good idea.

"Uh-hum. Sorry to rush you, doctor, but you only have one minute left. You better make your decision soon, or it'll be made for you."

I sighed. "Alright. I'll go with you."

**A/N: So Holmes really does think Watson's guilty, but why? All will be explained, but not for a while. In the next chapter, Watson makes a run for it. Don't worry about Uriah Smith, he won't be around much longer. **


	4. Escape!

**A/N: Yes! I finally got my laptop working right again! It needed a new "power chord" that happened to cost 80 dollars.**

Chapter 3: Escape!

"How do you plan on-"

"Quiet." There was a clicking sound and Smith's cell door creaked open. Once he reached the front of my cell door I could clearly see his face, which was not at all as I had pictured it. Smith's face was round and boyish, his hair golden brown. The only thing that might have reflected his character were his dark eyes.

He either had the key for the door, or was somehow able to pick the lock. I didn't see how either was possible. They must have searched him thoroughly before locking him up. In a few moments the wooden door burst open and Smith was rushing me out into the hall. I was surprised when, instead of us going to the left toward the exit, we went to the right.

"What are we-"

"Hang on, we need to hurry!" He dragged me inside a cell near the end of the hall. "We stay here and wait until they find out we're gone. It's much easier than getting past them."

He was right. We soon heard three sets of feet echo down the hall, and talking. It was apparent they were coming for Smith, and not me. Nevertheless, they discovered both of us were gone, and were sent into a state of panic. Thinking we had already escaped they ran down toward the exit, away from us.

Smith waited a few moments, listening carefully to the silence. "Okay, let's go."

Once again I felt very out of shape as we ran down the hall. It seemed like everyone else ran faster than me. "Step lighter," Smith hissed over his shoulder "they'll hear you!" I was aware of that, and had tried to quit my footsteps, but found it nearly impossible.

We tore through the door and I winced as it slammed behind us with a seemingly deafening sound. There were two directions we could go, and Smith bolted to the right. I followed him, the slippery cement floor slowing me down. I could hear faint yelling behind me, and tried to run faster.

"Stop," Smith whispered, holding his hand out as I skidded to a halt near a small wooden door. The raucous voices were louder now. Smith yanked open the door. As soon as we were inside the three men we had heard talking walked directly in front of our hideout. Smith held a finger to his lips and we both froze as the men stopped talking for a moment.

"What is it Mr. Holmes?" Holmes was out there! I didn't recognize the voice that had spoken.

"I don't think think that Watson and Mr. Smith have left the building. They haven't gone this direction at least."

"But sir, we've been everywhere else."

"Did you check all the cells? I thought not. They are still here."

"Alright then. Let's go men," said the exasperated voice that I was sure was Lestrade's. Holmes however didn't seem to have left with them. He stood outside the door for a few moments. Did he know we were here? There was silence and a small sigh, after which Holmes followed the other men.

Approximately forty-five seconds later I was getting rather impatient. "We need to leave now!"

"Okay, I guess you're right," said Smith sarcastically.

Surprisingly we headed back to the area where we were held captive only minutes ago was. I was breathing too hard to protest. We sped past the heavy door and straight down the hallway. The men must have realized we weren't hiding there, for there was a swish as the door that led to the cells opened. "Hey, they're over here!"

I felt a jolt of terror and tried to sprint faster. I turned a corner, barely hearing the sound of heavy footsteps with the blood roaring in my ears. We finally reached yet another door, and I couldn't help but look over my shoulder.

I finally saw the four men who were after us. Inspector Lestrade was frustrated and angry. Two other men I didn't know, looked frantic and stressed. Holmes was the only one of the four who seemed to retain any amount of calmness.

Smith realized the situation and pulled the door open quickly. It led outside! What a poorly guarded exit. At the very same time this occurred Lestrade yelled, "Shoot that man!" I didn't know who he was referring to, though I assumed it was Smith, but there was no reason to take chances. I caught a very brief glance of Holmes' calm look change to one of terror as both of the officers raised their guns.

Everything else was a blur. There were two near simultaneous bangs of the pistols and the next instant I felt a hot pain directly above my elbow. After processing this I heard a dull thud next to me. I looked down and saw the face of Uriah Smith covered with a sickly layer of blood. Feeling ill and my arm throbbing I jumped over the body, trying very hard not to look down.

I ignored the yells from behind me and raced outside, only to realize it wasn't as weakly fortified as I had thought. The tall chain-link fence, complete with barbed wire, looked impossible to climb. There was no way I could get over that, especially with my arm injured. I was almost ready to give up.

"Watson stop!"

**A/N: And now I must be off, for our house is being showed this afternoon. Selling a house just isn't what it used to be. Please review!**


	5. Escape Part 2

**A/N: Sorry for not updating for a while. I tried to make this chapter longer. About Holmes. He will be in over half of this story, but I just can't include him much yet. Read and Review!**

Chapter 4: Escape- Part 2

I didn't know what to do. Trying to escape just seemed so hopeless. Was it better to just give up and have to face Holmes again? But then I saw my chance. Part of the chain-link fence had broken off of one of the poles. It was hard to notice, glancing at it once you would think that area of the fence was perfectly intact. What luck! I might just be able to squeeze through it.

After thinking this through, I still managed to slam the door behind me, seconds after Holmes' bid me to surrender, using more strength to push Smith's body back. I scrambled over to the fence and pulled the broken part away. The space left behind was still too small for me to get through. I yanked and tugged on it, urging it to release its grasp on the ground.

I heard the door crash open, and felt my stomach lurch sickeningly. It would be a disaster if I was caught now! With one last yank the fence whipped up from the ground. I ducked underneath it and edged through, not daring to look behind me. Once on the other side, I knew not to feel victory to soon. They were only a few yards from me and could get through the fence in a minute.

I prepared to run, then found that my foot was caught by the shoelace on the fence. Holmes' and the officers were nearly caught up with me, and I didn't have time to save my shoe. And so I continued running unevenly with only one.

They were right behind me, I could sense it. I ran through the city streets, and there weren't many people about. I wondered what time it was, but couldn't even see the sky. There was very heavy cloud coverage.

Getting away from Holmes was quite impractical. I knew that unless I was very lucky once again, I wouldn't be able to lose him and the officers for any viable amount of time. Unless Holmes' heart wasn't really in it, and he didn't want to have me recaptured? I decided to hope for the first option, as that was more likely. For an immeasurable amount of time I ran down alleys and turned corners on sidewalks. While I got further away from them, I knew they would always catch up to me. I could hear and sense them behind, in front of, and to the left and right of me. They had the wonderful advantage of being able to split up, and surround me.

I had just reached another street and had lost them for a moment. I allowed my pace to slow, and breathed heavily. I sounded like I had bronchitis. That's when my second piece of much needed luck struck me that day. A hansom was approaching! Thank goodness! I rushed up to the hansom and the driver slowed the horse down.

"Turn around!," I yelled at the driver, leaping into the hansom. I gave the driver the address, and promised an extra tip if he got there speedily enough. A tip I knew I couldn't pay, nor the regular fee, for I had absolutely no money. I heard Holmes' pursuing me, but the hansom was too fast, even for him. We sped off, leaving him and the officers behind at the same moment it began to rain.

* * *

A while later I arrived at Genevieve's house. It had been very hard getting away from the cab driver. I promised to pay him, and explaining that I would pay him back as soon as I left the house. He didn't believe me, naturally, and rode off in a fury.

I banged on the door, not bothering to use the knocker. There was no answer. After knocking three times I realized she wouldn't let me in. I rattled the doorknob. Locked. Maybe I could get in through the back door or window. Not that I _wanted_ to break in, but she might know I wasn't guilty. I had to ask her what had happened. The two back doors were locked. I tried four windows before climbing into the garden over the small stone wall, slipping in the mud, and found the window that led to the dining room unlocked. "Genevieve!," I called once inside. "I know you're here, I need to talk to you!"

There was a hesitant clatter of footsteps and my cousin appeared looking very stressed. "Hello, John," she said tiredly. "How wonderful to see you again! I'm sure your wondering-"

"Why I've been arrested for murdering Mr. Harvey? Yes, I'd like to know that."

"I truly am sorry John, but Stella and I didn't have any other choice," Genevieve said in a shaky voice, but with a determined look in her eyes.

"So you two killed him?"

"Not exactly." She thumbed the top of one of the ornate chairs that matched the dining table.

"Then explain to me what's going on!" When she paused and looked down I continued to persist angrily. "I deserve to know! You're the reason that I'm arrested! Did you know Holmes is even after me? My best friend thinks I'm a murderer. This whole facade must have been pretty well-planned if you could fool even him!" I stopped at my words, realizing something. Holmes could be on his way here right now! He could easily track me.

Genevieve raised her head. "I suppose I'll have to tell you. Yes. Yes, I will tell you, everything I know. But I need to find Stella first. We can explain it better together." I couldn't imagine Mrs. Harvey saying more than a few sentences. As Genevieve began to march off I remembered my missing shoe. "And Genevieve, could you get me a pair of shoes? One of mine is.. lost."

"Okay, but they probably won't fit you." I sat down on one of the many chairs and waited for her to come back with Mrs. Harvey. And waited. How long had she been gone?

The house was three stories. With twenty or so rooms. But it had nearly been an hour and a half. Maybe she was outside? I walked over to the window I had entered through. Neither Genevieve nor Mrs. Harvey in sight, only the muddy garden. Hopefully I went to the front of the house and looked through a window in the parlor. No Genevieve there, but something that I knew would not bode well. The sound of horse's hooves. Holmes had already found me! It had only been an hour. I was dimly reminded of the time when Moriarty was after us, when we felt like criminals. Now it was only me.

"Genevieve! Where are you? Holmes has found me!"

"Coming!" came her faint cry. She must have been on the third floor, I could hardly hear her. I could see the carriage approaching in the distance, a slow moving blur on the long winding path. Silence from upstairs.

"Hurry!" I yelled. I sighed in relief as she and Mrs. Harvey trotted downstairs, carrying several parcels and purses, and a pair of worn leather shoes. Mrs. Harvey was dressed in black mourning clothes and had a smoldering rage about her. "What are those?"

"Just some last minute packing. We need to leave now. Here, take these," Genevieve tossed the shoes at me. The two women pulled shawls about their shoulders and tied the ribbons of hats around their chins. I could agree with leaving, but what I was worried about was where we were going. I told Genevieve this and received a forcefully cheerful answer.

"Switzerland!"

"Switzerland?"

"Yes, I told you I would explain, but not now. We need to get moving." I looked out the window and saw she was right. I could see Holmes and three other men getting out of the hansom. Which I now realized was the same one I had ridden here in! Blasted cab driver! How did they get here so fast?

"How are we going to leave? Do you have a carriage?"

"Um.. no. We gave ours to.. a friend."

"So we'll have to walk."

Genevieve sighed and nodded in assent. Mrs. Harvey glared at the wall sullenly.

"Let's go!" The three of us ran to the back door just as a pounding was heard on the front door. Wait! Would they be at the back of the house waiting for us? I approached the door and looked outside cautiously. Just as I had suspected one of the men was rounding the corner. "Get back," I told Genevieve and Mrs. Harvey who had been leaning over my shoulder. "There's someone out there." Now what did we do?

"I know," said Genevieve, answering the question in my mind "let's wait until he reaches the door and go through the window."

"What if they see us?" Mrs. Harvey spoke for the first time, her voice a soft growl.

"If they do we run. There's no other way." said Genevieve. It was a pretty poor plan, but I was beginning to feel sick. The past events of the day were catching up to me. I opened the window shakily and looked at the door. The man was guarding the door, facing away from it though. By now Holmes and the others must be inside. I climbed out making little noise, but stared simultaneously at the guard and I slipped in the mud. The guard looked around, but the fence had blocked me from his view.

After a few seconds had past I stood and help Genevieve jump nimbly out the window, her skirts ruffling as she lightly hit the ground. Mrs. Harvey tried to copy her example, but ended up slipping on the sill and landing on the ground, much harder than I had. The guard snapped his head in our direction. "Get down," I hissed.

We crouched down against the fence and waited tensely. We could hear the squishy steps of the man approaching the garden. Once he reached the garden he stopped. I waited, not breathing, not making a sound... not daring to even look at the open window..

**A/N: Review please!**


	6. Escape Part 3

Chapter 5: Escape- Part 3

The guard did not find us. I don't see how he couldn't have noticed the open window. He must have been distracted by something else. Whatever the case was we managed to scramble madly into the woods near the back of the house before we were seen. Or if we were seen, no one came after us.

When we passed the stables I recalled the groom and servants that had been here the last time I visited. "Genevieve, where is the groom, the servants?"

"Taken in for questioning," she reluctantly answered. She looked down at her skirts, which were getting splattered with mud. "They were eyewitnesses to the crime."

"So, you told them to lie," I stated.

"No, I didn't tell them to lie. I'll explain later, I'm running out of breath."

Why wouldn't she tell the servants to lie? They had killed Mr. Harvey. I focused on running, placing my feet carefully around the tree roots. Once we got out of the woods (no pun intended) we could talk.

We reached a side road, headed for a nearby hotel. Mrs. Harvey and I had bickered over staying there. I argued that we had to keep moving or Holmes would surely catch us. She argued that we had to stop sometime, this rain was tiring us and could make us sick. I was rapidly tiring too, and the rain was making my leg hurt.

"Okay! We'll go to the hotel, but you have to explain everything now! And we only stay until morning!"

"It is morning!"

"Well, a few hours then," I said in a disgruntled voice.

"Right," said Genevieve" First let me say that even I haven't gotten to the bottom of this. But we will tell you all we know. Take it away Stella."

"Years ago," Mrs. Harvey began "I married Andrew. I will always regret it greatly. In my defense, he seemed perfectly normal when I met him. Just the husband I thought I wanted. Someone who could handle all the affairs I couldn't. He was strong willed, exuberant, everything I wasn't."

"The one odd thing about him was his family, his parents mainly. His mother was very suspicious, of nearly everyone, and she wouldn't speak to me at all. I thought it was due to me marrying her son, but there was his father. His father was rarely around, and when he was at home, he always stayed up stairs in his room. I decided not to bother with it. I didn't think it would be much of a problem. So we got married and I moved in permanently with his family."

"I realized just how strange and unpredictable his family really was. Andrew's mother was the one I noticed first. She never left the house, and ate so very little, it was unhealthy. Sometimes she spoke as if to herself, and always went walking about the house as if she was terrified of something."

"The father was different. He would burst out passionately in anger at the oddest moments. I wondered if his wife was afraid of him. I realized Andrew's parents may have affected him. No matter how they acted, I still cared for Andrew at the time. So I asked Andrew if his parents and him wanted to go and visit Genevieve. Genevieve?"

"Naturally," Genevieve cawed "Stella told me all that had occurred. I told her it wasn't that strange. Perhaps the man's temper had gotten to his wife. But for her sake I allowed them to come over. And-"

"They refused," Mrs. Harvey finished. "In quite an passionate manner at that. They seemed very protective of their home, and must have been afraid to leave it unguarded. But that all changed when Andrew's parents disappeared. One day they were there, the next morning gone. No explanation, nothing. I knew Andrew knew where they were, but he wouldn't tell me. He did seem very interested in staying at Genevieve's house then."

"So," cut in Genevieve "They came to my home. But not for more than a month at a time, then he would return for a week or two."

"After three months, that's when the blow hit," said Mrs. Harvey. "He brought a giant cat into Genevieve's home! It was ridiculous. I asked him what he thought he was doing and he lashed out at me angrily. Each day he was getting more and more like his father. He put that cougar into one of the upstairs rooms, and he never let me in there. I thought there had to be a reason for his actions, that the cougar was there to hide something from us. And then he got two more."

"Three!" I exclaimed "I only saw one."

"Oh, really? Yes, I remember you sneaking up there. Anyway there were three, and Genevieve and I tried once or twice to see what it was the cats were guarding. You remember that door inside the room the cougar was in front of? We tried to reach it, but it was hopeless. Either Andrew would find us out and throw a fit, or the cats attacked us. Genevieve?"

"Then Stella had a baby, which she wasn't too happy about. She was afraid of her little boy growing up in a house with three giant cats in it. How do you think I felt about it anyway? I told Andrew repeatedly to remove those creatures and he was at the point of physically attacking me. I asked Stella if she wanted to leave and go back to her house. She said she wanted to, but she feared Andrew wouldn't allow it, and she felt safer with me there. It was my house after all."

"That was when you came. We tried so hard to hide anything from you. But you had to have seen the scratches on my face. And the baby." Her voice started to shake. "A few weeks after you arrived, there was a terrible accident. Stella and I were once again trying to sneak past the cats, and one of them escaped the room. It ran down the hall to the baby's room, and k- killed it."

Mrs. Harvey was sobbing quietly into her handkerchief at this point. Genevieve looked at her sympathetically and continued. "Naturally Stella was furious at her husband. Apparently the cat had been starved, and that was the cause of its attack. So we devised a plan to murder him, and that's why we didn't go to the police. We had been thinking about it for a while, but when you arrived our idea was plausible to go through with. The baby being killed was the final straw."

"When we saw you that was when we got the idea," said Mrs. Harvey "I have a brother who lives in Switzerland, who looks very much like you. I have a picture here somewhere." She stuffed her handkerchief in her purse and pulled out a small photo. I looked at it skeptically.

"He doesn't look _that _much like me," I said.

Mrs. Harvey blinked quickly, and gave me a startled look, "What do you mean?"

"His nose is too small, and his hair is all wrong."

"We cut his hair and mustache to make him look more like your and used a little make-up. What we did next was very simple. I urged Andrew to play poker with you, telling him of your discovery, and of course he cheated you. With the real you out of the way, we were able to continue with our plan. We arranged it so that the servants and the groom would both all be present when my brother murdered Andrew. And everything went so well. My brother killed him during the night, when Andrew was outside. They were both easy to identify, but it was too dark too notice any details that might have given away my brother's true identity."

"The groom and servants actually reported that you murdered Andrew and were taken in for questioning. They still aren't back yet. I suspected that at anytime the police would come over here to insist Stella and I were available for the trial. We had no idea you had escaped," finished Genevieve.

I was still outraged that she had dared to play such a rotten trick on me and shocked that there was someone out there who looked so similar to me. "What is you brother's name?" I whispered to Mrs. Harvey.

"Maxwell Compton. Look we know you're angry-"

"Yes, I am very angry."

"But we need your help and you need ours."

"What help do you need from me?"

"Help us with whatever Andrew was up to," said Genevieve "We still haven't found out yet. If you do we will prove your innocence."

"Prove my innocence? How could you do that?"

"We could um.. maybe if-"

"The only way you could prove anything is if you said your brother murdered him. I doubt you'll do that. I doubt your brother will admit anything. Why did you even tell me all this?"

"We thought you might help us. Okay, maybe we can't prove your innocence, but we do have money, and a way out of the country at that."

**A/N: I want to get Holmes in the picture soon, maybe in the next chapter or so. Review and I update sooner!**


	7. Running

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated for so long. This chapter is 2,145 words to make up for it. Oh, now it's 2,158 words. Now it's… I'll just stop. R&R. **

Chapter 6: Running

I was exhausted. We had been walking for hours now. I knew we had walked over five miles, at which point I had stopped trying to keep track. It rained. It stopped raining. Genevieve tripped over a tree root. When I thought I couldn't take another step I spotted a dirt road in the distance. Finally! We were nearly at the inn.

"You didn't say it would take so long to get here," I said sullenly.

"I thought you wanted to keep going earlier hmm…," retorted Genevieve. I looked straight ahead, seething angrily.

Once at the inn I felt a sense of relief. We were safe, for now. Or were we? We did cut straight through the forest. It should take another day for them to find us at least. What day was it anyway? My question was soon answered. The innkeeper was asleep and was very irritated that we had woken him up. Apparently is was around three in the morning!

I reserved us separate rooms, trudged up the stairs, pulled off my tattered shoes, and fell into bed. But I could not fall asleep as quickly as I thought I would. My mind was spinning at all that had happened. I thought about Genevieve and her scheming, Mrs. Harvey's baby, and Holmes… I was angry at each of them, but Holmes most of all. When would I not be angry constantly?

* * *

Two weeks later we were in Switzerland. Not once had we seen Holmes. It was quite odd actually. We had left the inn, and in two days reached the coastline. We had to wait for a steamship to arrive, and that was another two days. That time was spent in hiding and restoring energy. Mrs. Harvey toke some money out of the bank, seeing as I had none, and we all purchased extra clothing. The ship ride was around seven days long. Then is toke three days to reach the city Mrs. Harvey's brother supposedly lived in.

I had been in better spirits until we reached a small house Mrs. Harvey led us to. I had tried my best to forget about my problems while we were traveling, and pretend I was on holiday. But then I, of course, I remembered Holmes wasn't there. And that he was chasing after me and that I shouldn't be relaxing at all. So maybe I wasn't any more cheerful. Seeing that house though reminded me that I would have to confront this problem eventually and could not keep running.

Wordlessly, Mrs. Harvey knocked on the door. "Who is it?" A muffled voice.

"It's your sister dear."

The door burst open. "Stella, you made it," said the man behind it with a sigh of relief.

It was extraordinary. I was looking at my twin. Of course there were a few flaws. But his eyes were the same color as mine, his hair the exact shade of brown, he was nearly precisely my height. "What are you all waiting for? Come in." my reflection said.

I must have looked as astonished as I felt, for he chuckled. "Hello Dr. Watson. Yes I was quite taken aback to learn I had a twin as well."

The inside of his home was scantily furnished and dark. Curtains were pulled down over all the windows and a thin layer of dust covered nearly everything in the room. It didn't seem to fit the man's character. "I haven't had any spare time to clean up around here. Sit down," said Maxwell patting one of the dusty sofas. "We have got a lot to talk about." I sat down, but didn't say anything. Genevieve sat down slowly and looked at me nervously. "Um.. Mr. Compton, how have you been?"

Maxwell seemed to understand that Genevieve was trying to break the silence. "I've been doing alright Ms. Sellnow." Genevieve glared at him. He turned back to me. "They did tell you what this was all about, right?"

"Yes," I answered stiffly.

"I know you must be upset," he said sighing again, this time in regret. "But we can't change anything now. Sometimes my sister, when she is around Genevieve, acts without thinking things through."

"But you agreed to it!"

"They didn't- exactly tell me everything," he stuttered, apparently embarrassed. Mrs. Harvey looked down at her hands, ashamed, while Genevieve gave a small anxious smile. I decided not to ask any more on the subject.

"Anyway," Genevieve loudly intervened "We need to decide what our next step will be Mr. Compton."

"Yes," said Mrs. Harvey looking up "Did you discover anything else, brother dear?"

"Wait a second," I said angrily "You two promised that you would help me!"

"We did not!," they said in unison.

"Did you?" Maxwell asked sternly.

"I told him that maybe we could prove his innocence. Then he said the only way that would be possible is if I said you killed him and explained everything and we can't do that, because then all the police officers would get involved and we would not even get a chance to investigate-" Genevieve stopped her rant at this point and toke a hoarse breath.

Maxwell pulled one of the curtains aside and looked out the window. "It's late, we should turn in for the night."

Mrs. Harvey looked around the room skeptically. "Where do we sleep? You do have another room right?"

Maxwell shook his head. "Just the one. Sleep anywhere you can. I usually sleep on the sofa. Sleep on the floor if you have to. I might have a few blankets around here."

Mrs. Harvey stared at the none to clean oak floor, while Genevieve appeared annoyed with Maxwell in general. The three of us tried to make ourselves relatively comfortable. My stomach hurting from lack of food combined with the cold floor made it impossible to sleep. It seemed Genevieve felt the same way. "I don't want to ask for anymore after _everything_ you've done for us Mr. Compton," she said, sarcastically "But do you happen to have some food?"

There was no answer from the other side of the room, where Maxwell was. "He's asleep," Mrs. Harvey said, disbelievingly. Genevieve fell back down on the floor with an exasperated groan. "I know your not very fond of my brother Genevieve, but you have to understand he is trying his best to help us." I opened my eyes in surprise. It was rare that Mrs. Harvey said anything, let alone something against Genevieve.

"Then why did he-," Genevieve was silenced by a knock on the door.

The three of us stared at each other with wide eyes. "What do we do?" hissed Mrs. Harvey. Genevieve looked at Maxwell and smiled slyly. "I have an idea."

"What? Oh, no Genevieve. That will never work."

"It might," I said suddenly. I was quite eager for someone else to take my place.

"No it won't!" As Mrs. Harvey screeched the knock resumed, more firmly this time. "Fine," she grumbled. "But just to distract them, they'll know it's not him if-"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Genevieve shaking Maxwell awake. "Mr. Compton it's time to wake up!"

He opened his eyes blearily. His eyes that were exactly the same color as mine. This might actually work! "They're here," Genevieve squeaked anxiously. "You have to pretend to be Watson."

Maxwell was alert instantly. "You three go out the back window, I'll meet up with you as soon as I can."

It was like a repeat of what had happened a few weeks ago. We jumped out the window, and sneaked across the yard until we reached the bushes. We sat, Mrs. Harvey very impatiently, in the silence. Once again it was as if I was with Holmes on a case, keeping watch for the criminal. Mrs. Harvey poked her head around the bush at regular intervals only to tell us the same thing. There was no sign of Maxwell, or anyone else for that matter.

"Where is he?" Mrs. Harvey said eventually.

Genevieve was wearing a disgusted and tired look I was seeing more and more often on her. "That's it. I'll find out what's going on," she said standing up with a huff and marching down the lawn, muttering under her breath.

"Genevieve, wait!" She would get us all caught! "She'll get us all caught!" I said to Mrs. Harvey. We watched as Genevieve disappeared around the right corner of the small house. At that very same moment Maxwell ran around the left side of the house and spotting us, ran across the lawn.

"Where is Genevieve?" he asked anxiously. I realized he must only call Genevieve by her last name when she was in his presence.

"She went inside the house," I answered quickly. "What happened?"

"Holmes is here. He knows I'm not you though."

"Of course he does. But what about the rest of them. Those police officers and Lestrade..."

"They aren't here. Well, they didn't come with Holmes, but he said they might be here soon. He said that he wanted to talk to you. I don't know how he saw through our ruse so quickly.." he trailed off in thought. "We all better go inside and talk to him," Maxwell continued. I was about to protest when another cab aproached the cottage. How many times was this going to happen? Genevieve was already inside the house. There was no way we could reach her without giving away our location.

"We have to stay here," said Maxwell.

"No!" Mrs. Harvey craned her neck, trying to look around the side of the house. "There's a tree over there. We'll hide behind it and see what happens. Genevieve's in there!"

There was little space behind the tree. We all crammed behind it, carefully peeking around the side. The bark scraped my hands when I leaned over, trying to not lose my balance and fall. Inspector Lestrade and one other police officer came out of the cab and approached the house. I was slightly shocked to see Holmes walk out of the house to meet them.

"Ah, Lestrade, I see you finally decided to take my advice. I'm afraid that you are too late however. In any case, I have failed to correctly guess their location. There is no one here." Holmes was completely and utterly lying, but why?

"If you don't mind, I think I'd like to see for myself." Lestrade walked past Holmes, who made no effort to stop him, and simply watched with a strained expression.

One minute later Lestrade came back out of the house, dragging Genevieve along behind him. "No, you don't understand! I can't leave!"

"Ms. Sellnow," Genevieve snarled at Lestrade. "I am sorry, but you were supposed to be at the police station for questioning days ago." Genevieve snapped her head back multiple times, looking in the direction we had been hiding originally. I was desperately hoping she wouldn't reveal we came with her.

Mrs. Harvey leaned forward slightly, tensing, as if she were about to run after her friend. I gripped her arm, persuading her to stop. "I can't- she'll be all alone," she whispered to me.

"We can't help her, it's better if only one of us is in custody," Maxwell said, as softly as possible.

"Coming Holmes?" Lestrade looked at him expectantly.

Holmes smiled in amusement. "No, I think I'll just stay here for a while. I have my own way back as you can see."

Lestrade stared at him suspiciously, thinking Holmes knew something he didn't. Lestrade sniffed then led a resigned Genevieve over to the cab. After they had left Holmes stood in front of the house, unmoving.

"You have to go talk to him," Maxwell said.

"Why should I? He'll only turn us in." Even if he wouldn't, which I was starting to believe might be a possibility, I wasn't about to forgive him.

**A/N: Review! I only need four more and then I'll update again… I'll try really hard to update again!**


	8. ChauxdeFonds

**A/N: Yes, the Chaux-de-Fonds is a real city. I'm not sure what its condition would be during the time this story is to take place, but I did research to the best of my ability. Also, I'm not to adept on Victorian shopping, but really this is a fanfic and I NEEDED to get this chapter up! I want to thank all of you for the wonderful reviews, and ask you to please continue reviewing!**

Chapter 7: The Chaux-de-Fonds

The two of them stared at me waiting for my answer. As it happened, I didn't ever have to give an answer. Holmes glanced about once more, then turned on his heel decisively and walked off.

"What..," I murmured so softly that Mrs. Harvey and Maxwell might not have heard me.

The clatter of horse hooves grew fainter, and our little group stepped out from behind the tree and stretched gratefully. I looked back toward where Holmes had stood. It didn't make sense. Mrs. Harvey leaned against the back of the tree trunk. She looked exhausted. Her light brown hair hung down limply around her shoulders, the lavender dress she had bought a week ago smeared with mud. Lavender. She came out of mourning pretty quickly.

A cold gust of wind blew suddenly, causing Mrs. Harvey to shiver. "We better go in inside," Maxwell said voicing my thoughts. It might be warmer in there and we could decide what to do next. Or they could help me decide what to do.

As we got closer to the house though Maxwell stopped us. "Look at this." He stooped down on the ground and picked something up. A very small piece of paper folded over several times. The note was short and simple, not that I understood it.

_Meet me at Chaux-de-Fonds in the Jean- Frederic Leschot watch store._

_Holmes_

I held it up to Mrs. Harvey, scrunching up my face with annoyance. How dare he send me a note! Then again it really wasn't sent directly to me. It didn't even address anyone, just one sentence and his last name below. He must know more than he was letting on, at the very least that I wasn't traveling alone. Did he know whom I was traveling with?

"What's the Chaux-de-Fonds?" I asked.

"La Chaux-de-Fonds," Maxwell said, "Is a city near the border of France. Jean-Frederic used to be a watchmaker. Someone could still be running his store, but it could be a store simply named after him."

"What does this mystery have to do with watches?" I asked in exasperation.

Maxwell and Mrs. Harvey simply looked at each other in equal puzzlement. "Shall we go?" Mrs. Harvey said softly, looking down at the ground.

I couldn't think. I was so tired. "Tomorrow."

* * *

We did go tomorrow, when I could actually comprehend what someone told me.

"It's a city near the border of France," Maxwell said, while on the train ride.

"Um, you told me that yesterday."

"No I didn't."

"Mrs. Harvey did he, or did he not, tell me yesterday that the Chaux-de-Fonds was near France."

"Yes he did," Mrs. Harvey confirmed, glancing at us from her position by the window.

"But that's not what I said. Just now, I told you that the Chaux-de-Fonds was burned up in a fire, not to long ago."

"Oh." Holmes may have been right about these 'vacations'.

Once we arrived the first thing I noticed was the way the city was built. Not at all like our London with its twisting streets. The buildings were in a specific planned pattern, the streets long and straight. We meandered around for some time, then I remembered the sight of Mrs. Harvey's ruined dress.

"Do you think we should purchase Mrs. Harvey a new dress?" I whispered to Maxwell.

"Well, yes. I have some amount of money."

Maxwell suggested this to Mrs. Harvey who looked appreciative of our offer, but said she disliked shopping for clothing. "If Genevieve were here, she would jump at the chance to shop in a city so close to France."

We found a rather crowded boutique. Or that was what I presumed it was, as ladies walked in and came out holding bags and yards of cloth. I wasn't able to decipher the store's foreign name.

"Can you speak French?" I asked Maxwell.

He nodded and gave Mrs. Harvey a gentle shove toward the door. She looked at us nervously before taking a deep breath and plunging into the store. When she came back out, it was by pushing the double doors open with her feet. Bags of various sizes were strung around her arms up to her shoulders, and she gripped several smaller ones in her hands. Mrs. Harvey literally was out the door before she dropped them all on the ground.

"How many did you buy?" Maxwell said anxiously, stepping forward to help her with the clothing that spilled out of a black bag.

"I don't know," Mrs. Harvey panted. "I just went in there and a few women crowded around me, talking to me in French. I tried to tell them I didn't understand. But to no avail, they pulled me over to one of the mirrors for fittings and it was all over. I protested the whole time, but before I knew it they had me in this outfit, with who knows how many other dresses."

And now we were nearly broke. No need to worry, we could go to a bank later.

The store that Holmes had told us to meet him at was old and crumpling. It must have made it through the fire, because no house could be around for such a short time and still look so dilapidated. We cautiously walked inside, afraid that the door might fall apart when we touched it.

The inside was just as terribly wasted as the outside. Obviously it was at one point a store of some sort. Several smashed glass display cases clung to the walls. Elaborate chairs now lay dusty and worn, some missing legs, on the floor. The floor. The first thing I had noticed was the floor, or at least what was left of it. There were large gaping holes everywhere, it would be hard to take one more step forward. The mahogany panels were splintered into various lengths, and I could easily see the rafters underneath the floor. Rafters. That was a little odd. On the other side of this monstrous floor there was an equally wrecked staircase.

I leaned over carefully. "Looks like there's another floor down there."

Mrs. Harvey crinkled her nose, skeptically. "Are you sure?"

I stiffened. "No."

"Even if there is, we don't know how deep it is," Maxwell added. At this Mrs. Harvey pulled out her new fan and held it over the one of the gaps in the floorboards, and purposely dropped it.

"What'd you do that for? That cos-"

"Shh," Mrs Harvey said, holding up a finger to her lips. After nearly eight seconds we heard a tiny clunk. "There now, it is to deep to jump down to- whatever it is that's down there." Suddenly I felt that it was wrong to be here. That ridiculous feeling that something bad was about to happen. I tryed to shake it off, but couldn't ignore it.

Just as I was about to suggest we leave Maxwell exclaimed, "Look" and pointed towards the staircase where there was perched (what a surprise) Holmes' silver cigarette case. Now I was very nervous. Holmes might be here. That didn't mean that he was in any danger. Did it?

"That's Holmes' cigarette case," I mentioned.

"Great, that means he is here," said Mrs. Harvey. "One of us should go across."

"Yeah, one of us should," Maxwell repeated. We stared at each other expectantly, then all looked at the wall, ceiling, or floor. "Alright," I finally said, after about two minutes of this.

"I'll go."

"I'll go."

Maxwell and I looked at each other. "I'll go," we both stated defiantly again.

"Well we can't both go," I protested. "It's far too dangerous." So without waiting for their consent I began to walk across the rickety floorboards. They creaked and croaked underneath my feet, and I felt that at any second they would give way.

I started to sweat I was so anxious about falling. I focused on placing one foot, very carefully, on a intact piece of wood to my right and tried to jump lightly onto it. The beam that supported it rocked back and forth.

Three more steps, two more steps, I told myself. Last step, this is the last step. I heard Maxwell and Mrs. Harvey sigh with relief as I at reached the other side of the room, and plucked up the thin piece of paper held down by the cigarette case.

_Run._

I looked up the stairs in confusion, then heard a cracking noise. Maxwell and Mrs. Harvey's cries of warning were in vain as I plunged through the floor and into darkness.


End file.
